Running with Scissors
by ModKitty
Summary: After the battle with Apocalypse ceased, the X-men all resumed their average lifestyles. But when the prof seeks out a new mutant unaware of her abilities, trouble suddenly stirs and a new trio of mutants are revealed. Friend or foe? But which is which?


_I know it's not very exciting now, but I had previously been considering this as a oneshot. R&R pwease (constructive) and I promise I'll get the second chapter up asap if anyone truly likes it. _

* * *

High School.

Possibly the only part of my day that seemed as if it could last a lifetime. It just never ceased to bore me, and the monotony continued to take its toll even now.

I sat wearily at a worn out desk; scribbled on top, numerous wads of gum underneath. My brown eyes, distant and pensive, gazed at the front of the classroom where a portly teacher attempted to give a lesson on algebra, though what she was saying I hadn't the foggiest clue.

"As you can see, the answer is X34, and A+C69 in the separate equation. Laura, please read aloud the next question, and solve it for us."

Sighing, I put a pale hand under my chin. "Jeez, I hate math." I mumbled inaudibly. My awareness for the subject was little to none, and so it was obviously my least favorite class…the teacher included. A crude voice interrupted my negative thoughts.

"Erin…Erin Bristol, would you care to join the rest of the class, or are your daydreams that important?" The teacher, Mrs. Sanders, asked with annoyance. I immediately snapped my head up. Her spectacled face was inches from mine.

"I, uh, I was listening." I replied, trying to summon up my most sincere face. It didn't work.

"I'm sure you were." Mrs. Sanders said curtly. "Which is why you've got a detention to serve after school today, so you can listen even _more_."

"What?!" My mouth gaped. Was she _purposely_ trying to make my life a living hell? I swear, if anyone truly had a vendetta against me, it was Mrs. Sanders. That was probably the reason I had a D in her class. "Care to enlighten me on what I did wrong?" I added, in a somewhat smart ass tone. Right when the words left my mouth I instantly regretted them.

Her mouth pursed into a tight, thin line, as she answered. "Would you like for two detentions Ms. Bristol? You should not assume that I'm going to let you off easy for that rude remark."

I bit my lip in aggravation; whether it was at myself for never being able to keep my mouth shut, or at Mrs. Sanders for being such a bitch I didn't know. What I did know was, I was in trouble, and no amount of kissing up could change that.

"In light of you're behavior, you shall be staying after school _all_ this week." The stubby teacher continued, her face contorted in victory. "I do hope you enjoy the extra time spent here writing 'I will not disrespect authority' because by the time you've finished writing it the words should be permanently imprinted in your brain."

I felt my hands ball up into fists, and had to sit on them to avert from the violence I felt bubbling up inside of me. The rest of the class issued faint giggles, and sniggers at the obvious hell I was now going to pay. This time, instead of making any more comments that would be sure to land me yet another week's worth of servitude, I just nodded.

"Glad we've come to an understanding." Mrs. Sanders said, and she resumed her place at the front of the classroom.

The rest of the day went on painstakingly slow, and the thought of all the detentions I'd have to serve this week did little to motivate me. Whoever wrote the old song _Manic Monday_ obviously had the right idea, because today was one of the worst days in all my sixteen years of living.

The cafeteria was no better. North Salem High School may rank one of the highest in the nation for public schools, but the un-sugarcoated truth was…I was a misfit here. Thus the reason I was sitting at a table in a far corner all by lonesome. I wasn't upset by this notion though, it was a simple fact; one that I'd learned to get over quickly so as not to expect anything, and get my hopes up.

I was, to be perfectly frank, unremarkable. I obtained nothing even remotely interesting that made me stand out in a crowd. I _wasn't_ an exceptional student, nor was I athletic, talented, or even "pretty" for that matter. I had a pair of wide, chocolate-brown eyes set in a pale, heart-shaped face, framed by a shag of brilliant chestnut hair; cut in a somewhat boyish style. Definitely not your Malibu Barbie.

Sure, I was probably a_ bit_ anti-social at times. But it was only because I freaked when it came to meeting new, unfamiliar people. Where I inherited these abnormal traits, I wasn't entirely sure. My mom, Gwen, was conceivably the most sociable woman I knew; she could talk for hours on end…whether you wanted her to or not, and my doting father, Patrick, was a friendly, respectable man to everyone that he came across. He was the type of neighbor you'd witness on those sitcoms. The one you could go to for a cup of sugar, and instead he'd give you two five pound bags and a pat on the back.

The bell rang, and with a sudden clamor the rest of the students lifted their belongings, and left, leaving nothing but an echo of dead silence behind. My long, thin fingers momentarily stopped picking at the sandwich I'd failed to eat, and grabbed my backpack. I stood, tossed out my tray of untouched delectables- cafeteria food is_ so_ appetizing- and trudged out of the lunchroom, an air of solitude looming over me.

* * *

P.E. was killer. My only thoughts at the moment were focused on locating, and disposing of, whoever invented the need for "physical education" in high school. Is doing pull-ups seriously necessary to aid me in the future? Its bad enough I don't have a single muscle in sight, and can barely even muster the strength to open the cap of a water bottle, but then I have to lift weights, and do sit-ups?

My personal hell indeed.

I reentered the double doors to the school, unhappily included in a large, chattering throng of a dozen or so students. I felt stiff, and tired…not to mention cranky at the thought of having to stay for my unjust detention.

Just as I turned the corner that would lead to the locker rooms, I caught a brief glance at the principal escorting what appeared to be a man in a wheelchair. The scene barely captured my interest. Principal Zimmerman was always bragging, and showing guests around the school. I simply assumed the man with him was from the board of education. Boy was I wrong.

I showered and changed in a hurry, practically tripping _twice_ while attempting to slip back into my faded jeans. When I hoped I at least looked decent, I headed down the hall for my lovely detention with Mrs. Sanders, who barely acknowledged my existence when I shuffled into the classroom, and took a seat.

"You know the drill." She merely mumbled, her face barely visible from behind her computer screen.

I sighed, and fumbled through my bag for a sheet of lined paper, and a pen. Then I commenced with writing 'I will not disrespect authority' until the loudspeaker suddenly blared to life while I was in mid-sentence.

"Erin Bristol, please report to the principals office as soon as possible."

Me? Why did they need _me_ for? I stood, and stuffed my belongings rather carelessly into my pack. "I bid you adieu Mrs. Sanders. Unfortunately I am unable to complete your assignment." I stifled a smirk as I swiftly left the room.

I nearly skipped down the hallways out of sheer bliss. My face was lit up by a huge smile, that is, until I opened the door to the principal's office only to be greeted by, Who else? The guy in the wheelchair from before. My heart skipped a beat.

I warily took a seat, my brown eyes scanned the room for any sign of Mr. Zimmerman. Apparently it was just me, and a nice heart-to-heart with ol' wheelie there.

"Um, hi." I started, a bit peeved by the silence. "I'm Erin Bristol."

"Oh, I already know who you are, my dear." The man replied with a warm smile that made his small eyes crease. "I am sorry to have interrupted your detention."

I couldn't help but smile in return. "Trust me, you weren't interrupting anything."

The man's bald head glistened in the florescent lighting of the school, and as he chuckled, I couldn't help but notice that he was examining me, watching me with intent interest as if I was something on a Petri dish under a microscope.

"Sorry if I'm being too upfront about this." I continued, hesitant to ask his reason for seeing me. "But, why exactly are you here?"

Baldy regained a somewhat serious expression, and leaned a bit closer. "Pardon me for not saying so earlier, I am Professor Charles Xavier, of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and I believe we could use a student like you."


End file.
